


support system.

by grovicisms



Series: If, If, If [7]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Aviophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Monty Saves the Day, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 04:52:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1213381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grovicisms/pseuds/grovicisms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Len's aviophobia rears its head again, and Monty's there to make it better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	support system.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [My little shit of a friend: Alli](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=My+little+shit+of+a+friend%3A+Alli).



Len can't even remember how he ended up on a damn starship in the first place. One moment, he's at home, listening to Monty go on about physics nonsense; the next, he's on the bridge of a goddamn starship, trying to struggle against the beginnings of a particularly bad panic attack.

 

Fate is a fickle mistress.

 

He's getting all these weird looks from the bridge crew, and he's glad that Monty is there to tell the onlookers off before he drags Len to the turbolift and away from prying eyes.

 

He doesn't see where Monty leads him, but he doesn't care, as long as wherever they're going doesn't have a view of space within fifty yards of him.

 

Len can hear Monty telling him something, then he's being sat down somewhere in the bowels of the ship. No space in sight. Thank fucking god.

 

"Hey, Len. Lookit me, Len. I'm right here."

 

Monty is kneeling in front of Len at this point, hands on his shoulders to steady him. The contact is enough to shake Len from his panic for him to lunge forward and latch on to Monty, his face buried in the crook of his neck.

 

Neither of them know when Len started crying.

 

"Monty, I can't--I _can't_. I don't want to be here."

 

"I know, I know. I'll get you back, okay? We'll be home soon." Monty's heart breaks for him. Really. He's seen him distraught before, but this pushes new boundaries.

 

Monty pulls him into his lap and hugs him, wraps his arms around him and tries his best to calm Len down.

 

"Remember when I first kissed you, Len?"

 

The first thing that came to him was distracting Len from whatever thoughts he's having: something that Monty is a professional at by now.

 

So he keeps talking, reminding Len of their shenanigans on the ranch. Like the night Monty took Len out for his first drink, or when Len took him out to that little clearing deep in the woods near the house where they watched the sunrise just because they could. Monty would remind Len about how he would kick some guy's ass for insulting him.

 

"Len, remember when I taught you how to play rugby?"

 

That elicits a semblance of a nod from him.

 

"I still can't believe you hadn't heard of it until I came along. You were pretty good at it once you learned."

 

The image must have pushed away any dark thoughts Len had, because he starts chuckling a bit.

 

"Yeah. S'fun. 'Member when I tackled you when you weren't paying attention? Knocked your Scottish ass to the damn ground."

 

Now, it's Monty's turn to laugh. "Yeah. Hurt like a motherfucker, if I'm being honest. Was definitely sore the next day."

 

Monty loosens his grip so Len could readjust himself to look Monty in the eye. "You ain't really been sore till you ride a horse for a couple'a miles after a month of ridin' celibacy."

 

The incredulous eyebrow raise from Monty rivals Len's in intensity. "'Riding celibacy?' You just made that up!"

 

"Well, that's basically what it was!"

 

The two of them end up laughing, foreheads pressed together, any remnant of fear in Len buried deep inside, locked away where it will undoubtedly return some other day. Hopefully on that day he's not unexpectedly dumped on a starship.

 

"You feeling better, Len?"

 

Len brings a hand up to Monty's neck and pulls him closer to steal a quick kiss. "Yeah. For now. Think they have any alcohol here?"

 

Monty snorts and rises, helping Len to his feet as he does so. "Maybe. Can't say it'll be any good, though."

 

Slowly, they make their way out of the framework of the ship, Monty holding Len's hand and offering little encouragements when Len starts to show signs of shutting down again; Monty initiates small talk with him to keep his mind off things.

 

"Do you realise how southern you sounded back there?"

 

Len huffs. "Did not."

 

"The accent was clear as day."

 

"Says the Scot."

 

"At least I don't deny having one, dear McCoy."

 

"Oh, no. I see what you're doing. You're trying to charm me into agreeing with you."

 

"Leonard Horatio McCoy, I am offended."

 

This is the time where Monty decides to ruffle Len's hair like he's a toddler. Much to Len's dismay.

 

"Montgomery whatever-your-middle-name-is Scott, keep your _paws_ _off_."

 

Monty rounds on him, grabbing him by the waist. There's this smirk on his face that makes Len instinctively take a step back.

 

"'Paws off', eh? Never had a problem before."

 

He leans forward, kisses him roughly, and wrestles him to the ground.

 

The tousle is brief, and Monty ends up sitting on the Georgian boy's chest.

 

Len struggles against the deadweight. The whine he lets out makes Monty laugh.

 

"I'll be damned. Never thought I'd hear a noise like that outta Mister Tall, Dark, and Brooding."

 

All he gets for his efforts is a glare and the silent treatment.

 

"Oh, c'mon, Lenny. You can do better than that."

 

There's a brief moment where Len just completely gives up, goes limp and everything. He even contemplates calling mercy and letting Monty win this one.

 

"What happened to that fire in your belly, huh? I am disappointed in you, Len--"

 

The momentary lapse in his concentration is enough for Len to dislodge the Scot and tip the balance in his own favour. Soon enough, Monty's the one pinned to the floor and Len's sitting on him.

 

"Patience, my dear Scott. You gotta have patience."

 

All Monty does is roll his eyes.

 

With a final triumphant smirk, Len climbs off of him and extends his hand. "Patience and a steady hand."

 

"You always were wise for your age, Len." Monty accepts the offered hand and rises to his feet. "You're already sounding like an old man."

 

"And that's coming from the real old man."

  
"Len, Len." Monty drapes an arm around his shoulders as they walk. "Your insults are _terrible_."

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not have a thing for eighteen year old Leonard McCoy and twenty-three year old Montgomery Scott.


End file.
